<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Another Day at the Office by ahh_fuck</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25867630">Another Day at the Office</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahh_fuck/pseuds/ahh_fuck'>ahh_fuck</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Office AU series [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Consent, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Geralt works in an office, Gratuitous Smut, Jaskier is a musician really, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Yennefer pegs, jaskier is a barista</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:07:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,680</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25867630</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahh_fuck/pseuds/ahh_fuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a modern AU ficlet inspired by an ask on Tumblr. I don't intend to write any more of this but you never know. Geralt is an office worker who uses his day job to support a secret second job. Jaskier is a coffee barista who he sees every evening on his way home from work. Jaskier is a musician, and he and his buddy Lambert do the evening shift in the cart every day. No one knows what Lambert does. Jaskier finally gets up the courage to give Geralt his number, they get very drunk together, and their pants come off. At the end, you get to find out what Geralt's hobby is. This is 80% gratuitous smut and is just for fun. Enjoy!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Office AU series [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937584</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>100</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Another Day at the Office</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Geralt growls in frustration as another error pops up on the screen. The printer was acting up </span>
  <em>
    <span>again.</span>
  </em>
  <span> To make it worse, there was no damn problem with the printer for anyone else in the office. For that matter, there was no problem with literally any other document he was trying to print out. But for some reason this particular one had it in for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had to be because it was the end of his day. Only one fat, miserable stack of paper between him and freedom. And this damn error. Punching the notification closed, he glares at the screen, topaz eyes flashing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sudden movement, he pushes himself smoothly back and rises from his rolling chair. A stormy expression clouds his handsome face as he stalks across the office to the printer. After flipping through a number of fruitless menus, he slaps the ‘clear’ button and resets the queue. Everyone in the office hates when some asshole does that, but it was the only way he’d ever been able to solve this particular error. Indeed, as he irritably navigates his way back to his cubicle a rising mutter of complaints follows in his wake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever. Fuck them anyway, it wasn’t like he was in this for the joy of it. He slips back into his office chair and purposefully jabs ‘print.’ This time, the little dialogue box vanishes and the printer icon finally pops up. Sitting back, he presses his hands together, the shirt buttons straining across his chest as he stretches until there’s a quiet, satisfying crackle. He sighs in relief, then begins packing up his cubicle for the day. If he times it just right, he’ll be able to grab his bag and duck out of the office directly after his printout goes in the proper inbox. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finishes stuffing the last item in his bag and lets his eyes slide closed, focusing on the sounds of the office around him. DeVries hadn’t started doing her rounds yet. Perfect. Across the office, he can hear the printer spool down and stands. In a few quick movements he has dropped the printout at the proper box and slipped out of the side door and into the stairwell. He vanishes like smoke down the stairs and out into the lobby before anyone is the wiser, and when he pushes out the front doors, he sighs in relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he reaches the bottom of the steps he pauses in the plaza, taking off his blazer and slinging it over his arm. He hated the damn thing anyway, almost as much as the button down shirts that went with them. Shrugging, as if trying to shed the dreary awfulness of his day off, he heads across the echoing concrete space to a little mobile coffee cart pulled up at the edge of the parking lot under a stand of trees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is his favorite part of the day, loathe though he is to admit it. His morning coffee is barely memorable, exhausted as he is. But the evening coffee, the one he took home before doing his real work, now that was different. Both of the baristas made his day every day, albeit for different reasons. It had gone long past the point of getting extra tips out of him at this point. Because he was usually one of the last customers of the day, they had gotten into the habit of chatting and had genuinely become friendly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older one, Lambert, had yellow eyes and a crooked, sarcastic grin. He never failed to have amusing commentary on the other office workers from Geralt’s building, not to mention the usual denizens of the plaza, including, on one memorable occasion, a pair of very amorous squirrels who had decided to fling caution to the wind. Lambert had filmed it with his phone and saved it for Geralt, much to his simultaneous horrified fascination and total chagrin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The younger one, Jaskier, was interesting. He was a ray of fucking sunshine one minute, but in the next someone would be rude or he’d get a steam burn from being too hasty and it turned out he could swear like a sailor. Even Lambert, filth expert extraordinaire, was occasionally impressed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier had wide blue eyes and an elfin, animated face that changed rapidly from one moment to the next as he told outlandish stories of his musical conquests in his </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> job as a musician. To be fair, though Geralt would have been loathe to admit it, the performances he streamed online were a bit raw at the edges but enchanting. With time he had the makings of a truly extraordinary artist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Geralt approaches the cart, Lambert peeks his head out the window. “Hey man! How’re they hanging today?” He leers at Geralt in a friendly way, and Geralt rolls his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get the fuck out of my pants, Lambert.” He growls amiably, coming to lean on the counter outside the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? Fine, but I know who wants into them,” Lambert replies, then turns his head to the side and calls, “Oo-ee! Your boyfriend’s here, peaches!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the recesses of the little cart they both hear a snarl, then, “He’s not my boyfriend, Lambert! Choke on a bag of cocks, you dickhead, this thing is heavy!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert rolls his eyes, but slaps the counter and starts back towards the rising blue streak of irritation floating out from the back. “You got it, Princess!” he smirks, then nods to Geralt. “Be right back, man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take your time,” Geralt sighs, rolling his eyes. He couldn’t pretend to know the vagaries of mobile cart baristadom, but this time of day generally seemed to be accompanied by a lot of cursing and rustling. After a while, a wide-eyed, panting Jaskier emerges. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fixes Geralt with his best sunny grin, setting his elbows on the counter and draping his arms casually over one another. “Got off early today,” he observes with a playful quirk of his eyebrows. “What can I get you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Triple shot, cream, no sugar. That sparkly shit you put on it last time wasn’t any fucking fun at all, despite how much you went on about how it transformed your day or whatever the fuck.” Geralt replies, smirking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier puts his hand over his heart as if mortally offended, puffing. “I’ll have you know it </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> transform my day! That rainbow glitter sugar is </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> the right texture and it melted in my mouth. Clearly your palate is just not ready for that kind of joy. Heathen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t tell me that it sparkled </span>
  <em>
    <span>or</span>
  </em>
  <span> had colors before you put it on. You just told me that it was sweet and tasted nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Teach you to not ask questions before putting anything of his in your mouth,” Lambert says, coming back around the corner. “Triple shot, cream, no sugar.” He makes a face at Jaskier and hands Geralt his coffee, then leans against the edge of the window. Jaskier elbows him, annoyed that he’d been too busy talking with Geralt to get the jump on making him his coffee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt chuckles, taking his coffee from Lambert. “Thanks,” he rumbles. He pulls out his wallet and hands over his card. While Jaskier is ringing him up, muttering under his breath, he stuffs a generous little roll of singles into the jar, maybe seven or eight dollars altogether; certainly more than the cost of the coffee. His job more than kept him in housing and his needs were simple, so he didn’t mind tipping these idiots well. It made the end of the day nicer, to make someone at least a little happier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier hums a little note and hands him his receipt and his card back. “Doing anything fun tonight?” He asks, leaning on one hand and giving Geralt a little pout. “I’m not. My gig got canceled. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Again.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Can’t believe the club had their plumbing break twice in one month.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s because God hates you and so do I,” Lambert jokes, kicking him lightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you’re just jealous,” Jaskier sniffs, swatting at him. “I get a glamorous after hours life of debauchery and song, and what do you get? A dog and some stale fucking whiskey? Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In truth, no one really knew what Lambert did with his spare time. He kept to himself, and didn’t talk much about his present or his past. One night, when he and Jaskier had been particularly drunk, he’d admitted that his old man had surrendered him at a hospital at the age of ten, a journey which had eventually ended in foster care. When Jaskier had pressed for details, Lambert had gotten out the video of the squirrels fucking, and that had been that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never know. Maybe I’m getting blow jobs from hookers and doing blow,” Lambert snarks, snagging a towel and beginning to wipe the cart down. “Or maybe I drive race cars at night. I could be training for NASCAR.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt took a long sip of his coffee and chuckled. “It’s a new story every week, man. You must live the most boring fucking life,” he observes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier grins. “Maybe he breeds chihuahuas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha! You wish. You’d get along with one of those little assholes, you both bark at everything and want to hump people’s legs,” Lambert replies easily, moving off towards the back of the cart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to Geralt. “Well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well what?” Geralt asks. Then, he remembers. “Do I look like I do anything interesting at night?” he asks sarcastically, gesturing with his blazer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier purses his lips, eyes twinkling. “Well, you’ve never told me, so how should I know? Perhaps at night you’re some daring knight-errant, patrolling the streets for danger and saving unsuspecting innocents?” He teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not Superman,” Lambert grumbles from the back of the cart. “Besides, he looks like his mother fucked a snowman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think that sounds more like Batman,” Geralt observes dryly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, whatever,” Jaskier flips his hands up in irritation. “Neither of you have any whimsy. Would it hurt you to play every now and then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm. Guess we’ll never find out,” Geralt says. He leans back and pats the counter. “Thanks guys, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Grabbing his coffee, he turns away and heads up the street as Jaskier and Lambert call their goodbyes after him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier watches him go, gnawing his lip. He’d been trying to get the courage up to give Geralt his number for months now, and every day, he lets the opportunity slip through his fingers. Even Lambert had caught on that he was trying to work himself up to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert pauses in wiping out the refrigerator for the day and smirks. “Ever gonna do it?” He asks, then resumes scrubbing. He watches as Jaskier does a little dance, then plants his feet and juts his jaw out in a look of surprising determination.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what? Fuck it.” Jaskier pulls out a napkin and writes his number in neat blocky script with a pen, then doodles a little smiley star next to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert crows. “Oh, peaches is getting brave! He’s already walked away, how are you going to get it to him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier turns and grabs him by the collar. “Lambert, you’ve got to close up the cart today. I will never ever get this brave ever again and if I don’t go right now I think I will actually die.” Lambert goes to protest, and Jaskier interrupts him. “I swear to fucking god I’ll let you have all of my tips just-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a low chuckle, Lambert gently removes Jaskier’s hands from his shirt. “Okay, okay. Fine. Go. But you owe me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you, you already got my tips!” Jaskier is already out the door of the back of the truck before Lambert can change his mind, apron crumpled in the laundry bin by the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah fuck you too, we’ll talk about it later. You owe me a favor!” Lambert calls out the door after him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier flips him the bird before pelting up the street in the direction that Geralt went. Thankfully, it doesn’t actually take that long to catch up with him. The big, white-haired man isn’t going very fast, and he is easy to pick out in a crowd. As if his white hair wasn’t enough, his broad shoulders and lithe, graceful body were stunning as well. In the last block Jaskier slows to a jog, trying to catch his breath before he approaches Geralt properly. By the time Geralt stops at a crosswalk to wait for the light, Jaskier is only lightly puffing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt turns and looks around as he hears the sound of a heavily breathing person invading his personal space. The breathing sounds familiar, and as he turns, he hides a smile as he sees Jaskier at his elbow. “What?” He asks, feigning disinterest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lambert… forgot… to give you… a napkin…” Jaskier pants, realizing the instant it comes out of his mouth that he sounds like an idiot. Unfortunately, he’s already holding out the napkin for Geralt’s perusal. Visible is Jaskier’s name and number.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lambert forgot, huh?” Geralt replies with a skeptical arch of his eyebrow, plucking the napkin from Jaskier’s fingers. He watches as Jaskier gulps, spots of color coming up on his cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry that was dumb would you like to go out with me some time here’s my number,” Jaskier says all in a rush, then wishes he could sink into the sidewalk and die. Smooth, asshole. Way to get a date with your blazing hot crush. Internally kicking himself, he turns to leave. “Uh, forget I said anyth-” He is brought up short as Geralt grabs his elbow, keeping him in place. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Geralt stuff the napkin into his pocket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you leaving?” Geralt sighs, exasperated, turning Jaskier to face him. “You already told me your plans were canceled for the night.” He pauses, studying Jaskier’s wide eyes, then a little smile creeps up one side of his mouth. “It’s Friday.” His eyes flicker back and forth across Jaskier’s face, and the smile broadens as he sees how desperately flustered Jaskier looks. “Got time for a drink or two?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier wonders for a moment if he’s going to drop when he hears that question. “Y-yes, I certainly do,” his mouth supplies for him before his brain catches up. For once, Jaskier was thankful for his runaway mouth. Thanking whatever goddess or god oversaw not fucking up getting a date, Jaskier scrambles into motion as Geralt turns away and starts across the street when the light turns. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Follow me,” he says, not looking back to see if Jaskier is following. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leads Jaskier to what turns out to be a very charming little bar a few blocks from Jaskier’s house. It has a brick outside with iron lanterns, and inside there is a long wooden bar with a brass rail, some tall round tables with high chairs scattered around the central area, and several comfortable recessed booths around the back, their black leather worn but well-cared for. Geralt leans on the counter and orders boilermakers consisting of two dark Russian beers with rye shots. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier gives a little moue. “I wanted to order you the first round, let me thank you for having a drink with me,” he says, leaning up on the bar next to Geralt and checking him lightly with his hip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt rumbles a low baritone chuckle, looking at him out of the corner of his eye. “You can order the next round. I promise to drink whatever ridiculous shit you want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A look of delight crosses Jaskier’s face, followed by a look of pure mischief. “Only if we get to trade off. I want to see what kind of drinker you are, darling. You seem so buttoned up all week.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deal,” Geralt says with a brief grin. The bartender comes back with their drinks. They take them back to a table and slide onto the tall seats. Saluting each other with the shot glasses, they knock them back and then grab their beers. It doesn’t take them long to make their way through them, chatting amiably about their little shared slice of life at the coffee cart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next round is Bomb Pops, a confection consisting of rum, lemonade, and blue curacao layered to look like the popsicles. Jaskier tells a story about chasing ice cream trucks as a child, and Geralt asks him what his favorite desserts were, which sparks a heated discussion over the merits of Snow Cones vs Screwballs. Next, Geralt orders them glasses of Welsh single malt scotch. Not to be outdone, Jaskier orders frosting shots, which, Geralt discovers to his horror, are literally cake frosting mixed with vodka, rimmed with rainbow sprinkles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that, things get out of hand. Geralt turns out to have a fairly sophisticated palate, mostly scotches and fine gins, while Jaskier’s belonged firmly at an out of control sorority party. The conversation turns flirtatious. As they become drunker and drunker, Jaskier becomes more forward in stating his desire for Geralt, until Geralt decides to derail him by asking him what his favorite shot was as a college student. It turns out to be a cinnamon roll shot. By the time they stumble out of the bar, they are giggling helplessly and making fun of one another’s taste in desserts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt realizes distantly that he forgot to eat dinner, but the thought fades as Jaskier gives him a dopey grin as they pass under a street lamp. Feeling a sudden surge of bravery, he asks, “Want to come back to my place?” They’d been flirting all evening, and while at first Geralt hadn’t been sure he was going to go for it, in the end he thought, fuck it. He’d been fantasizing about biting that sweet lower lip for months, about grabbing Jaskier by the belt loops and just…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it far?” Jaskier asks, interrupting Geralt’s thought process. Then he mentally kicks himself, stuttering, “B-by which I mean yes, yes, lead the way!” He watches as Geralt smirks, then touches his elbow to guide him up around a corner and up a small hill. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not far,” Geralt replies, slowing slightly so that he can walk side by side with Jaskier, their elbows nearly brushing. His head is swimming, but he doesn’t care, and the warmth of Jaskier next to him is making his heart speed up pleasantly. Mouth tasting of scotch and cinnamon whisky, he keys a password into the door of an apartment building and leads Jaskier inside. They stumble out of the elevator a few floors later and into Geralt’s apartment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the door closes behind them in the dark, there’s a moment of resounding silence. Enough moonlight is coming in through the big windows on the far wall to see by, although not clearly. The apartment has a faintly chemical stink, and the walls are lined with shelf upon shelf of figurines, indistinct in the darkness. Jaskier only has a brief moment to question what they could possibly be before he finds himself being pulled into a rough, drunken embrace by Geralt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt pulls him close, fingers looping in the belt loops at the small of Jaskier’s back and anchoring him securely. Fierce golden eyes reflect the moonlight, studying the musician in achingly intimate detail. He looks deep into his eyes, searching to make sure he’s really ok moving forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s eyes widen, feeling the front of his pants begging to grow tight. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt more naked and scrutinized in his entire life, and his pants weren’t even off yet. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hot. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tongue darting nervously across his lower lip, he tilts his head back just slightly, and is rewarded by a pulse from Geralt where their hips are pressed together as the big man’s lips pull back in a fond but slightly feral looking grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still want me to fuck you?” Geralt purrs, pulling Jaskier just that tiny bit closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier bites his lip, feeling like he’s getting dizzy as all the blood rushes into his suddenly rigid cock. He had let it drop earlier that he’d been wondering what it would like to get absolutely railed by Geralt. They had been drinking a lot, and Jaskier wasn’t shy to begin with. “Oh fuck </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Jaskier groans, fisting Geralt’s shirt. “Oh yes yes yes,” and he rolls his hips against Geralt wantonly, too drunk to care that he’s being so effusive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt grins a wolfish grin, leaning down and capturing his parted lips in a hungry kiss. His tongue slides across that luscious lower lip, his cock swelling as he sinks his teeth delicately into it. Jaskier trembles against him, hips jerking and shuddering, and makes the most delicious little noise. WIth a growl that gradually deepens in register, Geralt holds Jaskier delicately by the lip and uses his belt loops to guide him back through the living room, through a door and into a bedroom that was neat but just rumpled enough to look lived in. Navy blue comforter that looks black in the moonlight, slightly messy desk, closet door half open but neatly organized inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier barely notices any of this as Geralt stalks him across the room and up against the bed. As they advance, he lets go of Jaskier’s lip and slips his tongue into his mouth, bringing one hand up to wind firmly in Jaskier’s hair and hold him in place. Not hard enough to hurt, but god did it feel hot to know that if he struggled even slightly, that big hand wouldn’t let him budge an inch. He trusted Geralt to let go if he became upset, but struggling was the farthest thing from his mind right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Jaskier’s legs hit the bed, his hands fly up and begin unbuttoning Geralt’s shirt. Geralt fumbles at it, then snarls in frustration. One hand still wound in Jaskier’s hair, he uses the other to rip the buttons off of the shirt, allowing Jaskier easy access to remove it from his broad shoulders. His undershirt is also quickly discarded. Then his hands move to Jaskier’s hem, lifting the nondescript white T-shirt Jaskier wore for his job over his head and dropping it unceremoniously on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They shed the rest of their clothing quickly, stealing sloppy, hungry kisses between items. Then Geralt shoves Jaskier, tumbling onto the bed with him. Jaskier scrambles to the middle, awkwardly kicking the comforter aside. With an impatient movement, Geralt sweeps it away and stalks up his body. His eyes rake over Jaskier’s body as he goes, taking in the sweet pale skin and the long, flushed arch of his cock. His chest is surprisingly hairy, and Geralt noses into the hair on his way by, biting at it delicately and mouthing at Jaskier’s skin. He comes to a rest with his elbows on either side of Jaskier’s heaving chest, cock bobbing above him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As their eyes connect, Jaskier whines happily, arching his hips just enough so that his erection brushes against Geralt’s where he kneels above him. He is rewarded by a low intake of breath, a tossing of the head, Geralt’s eyes going half-shut. Emboldened, Jaskier wraps his long, nimble fingers around both of their cocks, beginning to stroke them squeezed together. They both stutter out moans and breathy sounds, mumbling happily as their bodies begin to seek a rhythm. Geralt tips his head down and bites Jaskier’s lip again, sweeping his tongue along it and then seizing him in another achingly hot kiss. It doesn’t take long before they’re moving fluidly together, tongues tangling and hips arching and rolling in the moonlight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually Geralt breaks the kiss and pulls his head back to gasp in a deep breath, trying to clear his head. Jaskier lets him go, flopping his head back on the pillow and trembling happily. Geralt slaps on a bedside lamp, flooding the space with a low and gentle light. Then he gets up and slides open a drawer, perusing the contents inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Jaskier sits up on his elbow, he has to blink a few times to be sure of what he’s seeing. Arrayed inside the wide drawer are a truly astonishing assortment of dildos, flared at the base in to fit into… yes, there, a neatly folded leather harness. Then, a smaller collection of glass phalluses with handles, each one exquisite in its own way. Finally, a small clear plastic drawer bin full of condoms and a couple of different bottles of lube. A few other things roll around down where Jaskier can’t quite see them, but none of that matters after Geralt selects a few condoms, several gloves, and lube. Then he turns back to Jaskier, advancing on him with a glint in his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get up on all fours,” Geralt orders, the corners of his eyes crinkling fondly as Jaskier grins and obeys, rolling his hips back and presenting himself with a flirtatious shake of his rear. The supplies go on the bedside table, save for one glove. Slipping it on, Geralt squeezes a little lube onto his fingers and smears it around, warming it up. Then he places one hand on Jaskier’s hip, the other near his entrance but not touching it. “Ready?” he purrs, and Jaskier shivers happily under his hand, nodding into the bed and arching back just a little more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a pleased, lopsided grin, Geralt takes his lubed fingers and begins to gently stroke and probe, waiting until the muscles relax before he pushes in further. After only a moment of warmup Jaskier takes him easily, humming and purring and groaning into the bunched comforter at the foot of the bed. When he has him taking three fingers easily, rocking back into him and begging sweetly for more, Geralt finally sighs and slips his fingers out. He tosses the glove into a nearby trashcan and tears open the condom packet. He pulls out the condom and slides it over his rigid cock before climbing up behind Jaskier and stroking his hips with warm, steadying hands. Pausing, he grabs the lube and squirts a generous along his length, smearing it around before dropping another cool dollop onto Jaskier’s slicked hole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gonna fuck you so hard,” he purrs, drink loosening his tongue. “Gonna make you feel so good.” He hitches Jaskier’s hips back against him, pressing himself firmly to Jaskier’s entrance. Biting his lip, he stifles a snarl as he feels Jaskier’s muscles spasm against the head of his cock before relaxing to accept him. “You good?” he gasps, throwing his head back and shaking wisps of hair that have escaped his ponytail out of his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ye-e-sss…!” Jaskier groans, rocking back to take him in just that little bit further. They both make a strangled noise as the head of Geralt’s cock slides past the muscled ring and into the slick heat within. Jaskier braces his elbows against the bed and takes a breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt holds still while he adjusts, and as he feels Jaskier relax, he begins to delicately rock. The rocking quickly builds into short, shallow thrusts, easing his way deeper into that sweet heat until he bottoms out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beneath him, Jaskier whimpers and gabbles soft encouragement, his hips beginning to work with Geralt’s as his body accustoms to the pressure. With the drink making his head swirl, the sensation turns to pleasure with quicksilver speed, and soon he is rutting wantonly back against Geralt’s cock with abandon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck-!” Geralt groans, tightening his grip on Jaskier’s hips. He begins to rut faster into his eagerly bucking lover, leaning over him until he finds just the </span>
  <em>
    <span>right </span>
  </em>
  <span>spot, and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ohhh </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Jaskier cries, his head snapping back as light splashes against the inside of his eyelids. He opens his eyes, vaguely taking in the silhouettes of Geralt’s living room as Geralt begins to snap his hips methodically into just the right place inside of him. Black leather couch, half wall leading to a kitchen with a steel fridge, weird shelves full of figurines- and then Geralt </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> hits the right spot, because Jaskier’s eyes roll back in his head and he lets out a pure cry of pleasure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That cry sparks heat across Geralt’s entire body, and he hums a slightly breathless approval. There is a focused look on his face as he works to maintain the angle that brought out that cry, muscles flexing in the dim light. More loud cries follow, increasing in urgency and volume. Geralt abandons himself to the heat of it, fucking him with increasing fervor, driven on by the slapping sounds of their flesh and those sweet cries he’s drawing from Jaskier. The musician’s singing voice had nothing on this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier braces himself against the bedrail, sobbing drunkenly with arousal and just the right amount of overstimulation. He curses fluidly, fucking himself backwards against Geralt’s cock, urging Geralt to destroy him; and Geralt obliges, too drunk to filter the raw need coursing through him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moaning and cursing, Geralt leans over just a little more and fists Jaskier’s hair, gently forcing his head to the side so that he can see Jaskier’s face in the light. His eyes are glazed with bliss, his lips shiny and kiss swollen. As Geralt rails him just a little harder, those gorgeous blue eyes roll back in his head and Geralt feels him tighten around his cock. A moment later Jaskier gives a raw cry and spasms beneath him, coming untouched all over the bed, long hot spurts coating the sheets, his chest, his stomach. Watching the pleasure transform Jaskier’s face as he comes sends a hot twist curling deep into Geralt, turning into a fierce heat that rips through him with shockwave force. He throws his head back and shouts with the ferocity of his orgasm, the kind of coming that only happens once in a blue moon when you have totally lost your head. His hips jerk against Jaskier’s instinctively, riding through it until he drops back, trembling slightly from overstimulation and profoundly satisfied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panting, he ties off the condom, tosses it, then grabs a wipe and cleans himself. Then he gives Jaskier the pack of wipes and flops onto the bed, his legs feeling oddly loose and shaky. Jaskier wipes at himself and the sheet, then curls up along Geralt’s side with a shivery noise of contentment. Geralt hums back at him, wrapping one lazy arm around him. Together they sink into a warm reverie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they lay there, Jaskier eventually begins to emerge from his fucked-out bliss. His eyes open, and he contemplates the drawer in the big maple dresser that Geralt had pulled the condom out of. The sights inside tick through his head, and eventually, a light bulb goes on. “Do you have a girlfriend?” He mumbles thickly, sleepily curious, too blissful to be alarmed just yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” Geralt blinks his eyes and tries to clear his head enough to understand where that question came from. His gaze traces Jaskier’s line of sight and he spots the drawer. “Oh. No. We see each other on and off. It’s not exclusive.” With a huge yawn, he nuzzles into Jaskier’s shoulder and looks like he’s starting to fall asleep. He cracks an eye open when he feels a slight stirring against his thigh, Jaskier’s cock beginning to swell again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you like bottoming?” Jaskier inquires, fascinated. With the way Geralt always came across, he never in a million years would have pegged him as any sort of bottom. Now that he’s seen the toys, though, there are a number of images that occur to him. Geralt, spread wide for some woman, biting the sheets and groaning. Or legs splayed on the bed, back against the headboard as he gripped the handle of one of those beautiful glass toys and fucked himself with it. Even better, Jaskier sliding between his thighs and… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm…” Geralt mumbles sleepily, smiling. “Prefer it.” Then he yawns again, cracking open his golden eyes and looking at Jaskier. “People expect a big show, though…” he pauses as Jaskier chuckles softly, “M’happy to oblige.” He lets out a drunken little chuckle of his own, pulling Jaskier comfortably against him. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s quite the collection of dildos you have in there,” Jaskier points out, eyes glittering as he continues to consider the possibilities. His cock pulses more insistently as Geralt rumbles another warm chuckle, squeezing his ass cheek affectionately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only the glass ones are mine,” he explains, enjoying the warm pulsing and twitching of Jaskier’s cock against his thigh. He is still too spent from their earlier exertions to grow hard just yet, but he could feel a heat pooling low in his pelvis nevertheless. “Why?” He presses, spreading his hand out along Jaskier’s lower back and pushing gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier doesn’t need much urging, his cock swelling more with every passing moment as he begins to languidly rub himself against Geralt’s thick thigh. “Because I love the idea of fucking you,” Jaskier admits with drunken candor. Geralt’s lips twitch into a lopsided grin and he holds Jaskier closer, tensing his thigh to give him something firmer to grind against. Jaskier lets out a soft, heartfelt groan. His cock is a little sensitive after one orgasm so recently, but liquor and lust prove to be a heady combination, and before long he is hard again and rubbing against Geralt’s thigh with delightful abandon. He growls and hums and purrs happily as Geralt pulls him up atop him and nuzzles across his chest, nosing through the coarse hairs there. Beneath him, he feels Geralt beginning to stir as well, rising slowly but surely to meet the occasion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know where the condoms are,” Geralt mumbles against his pectoral, pausing to lick a nipple, pinching it with his teeth before gesturing with his head to the beside table. His voice is a warm, hungry rumble, and he rocks fluidly under Jaskier, a wanton invitation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier lets out a heated whimper as Geralt rolls under him like that, his cock twitching firmly in response as he imagines what it will be like to be buried to the hilt inside of him. He reaches out for a glove and lube, slicking his fingers generously before setting the bottle of lube back on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt rearranges himself to be more comfortable, packing pillows up behind himself and pulling his hair out of his ponytail. As he flops back, his white hair spreads behind him and spills over his strong shoulders. He spreads his legs wide and locks eyes with Jaskier, beckoning him closer, his eyes alight with arousal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier quivers at the sight, finding himself drawn up between Geralt’s legs as if he’s been magnetized. Getting up on his knees, he kneels between them and brings his fingers close to Geralt, giving him a questioning look. A rush of heat goes through him as Geralt gives him a lazy grin that exposes sharp canines, nodding his permission. Jaskier’s lips part as he sighs softly, caressing his fingers across the sensitive folds of skin he is so eager to touch. The muscle jumps and trembles under his gentle ministrations as Geralt rolls his head back and relaxes, allowing him inside with practiced ease. Jaskier slips his finger inside, feeling the instinctive tightening and releasing, his own cock twitching in anticipation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt sighs happily and draws his knees back a little further, melting into the feeling of Jaskier’s gentle probing. His long, delicate fingers are just as strong and skilled as he’d hoped they’d be, and he welcomes them easily. Then they slide a little deeper, and Geralt’s eyes roll back in his head as he groans heartfelt approval. Firmly crooked fingertips sweep back and forth, circling around that delightful place buried inside of him, and his cock begins to weep in earnest as Jaskier works it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, I want to fuck you so badly,” Jaskier moans, breath coming quickly now. “I want to bury myself deep inside that gorgeous ass, </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh</span>
  </em>
  <span> I want to feel your heat squeezing me-” He breaks off as Geralt rolls his eyes and pulls him up, seizing him for a searing kiss, biting and worrying at his lip, tongues clashing and tangling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they break apart panting Geralt growls, “Stop talking and do it,” and pulls Jaskier with drunken force down against him. With a breathless little laugh Jaskier falls against his chest, blue eyes sparkling in the dim light from the lamp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh god yes,” Jaskier gasps as he laughs. He grabs the lube and slicks himself up, then looks at Geralt with a wicked smile, leaning his hips back so that he can line himself up. Geralt gives an impatient little toss of his head, getting hair out of his face, and a bubbling growl erupts from him as Jaskier presses firmly inside. After an initial hitch of resistance, it only takes a few gentle thrusts to hilt himself. He works with the rhythm of the instinctive tightening of Geralt’s body until it eases and stills, then he rests his forehead against Geralt’s shoulder. Jaskier finds himself trembling slightly at the heat of him, and Geralt nuzzles the short hairs at the back of his neck, lipping at the sensitive skin behind his ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier moans and whimpers into Geralt’s neck, wiggling his hips as Geralt’s lips tickle over his delicate, ticklish skin. Geralt chuckles and nibbles at a particularly sensitive spot, causing Jaskier to jolt and bite his lip to muffle a curse. Then he begins to rock and move himself, tentatively at first, getting a feel for Geralt as a lover. Geralt responds warmly, sliding his lips across Jaskier’s skin as he muffles a moan into Jaskier’s neck. He slides his hands down to Jaskier’s waist to cradle him closer, savoring the heavy feeling of fullness inside himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A spike of heat goes through Jaskier and he arches his back in slightly, muscles bunching as he gets better leverage. He is rewarded by a sharp groan from Geralt, and he tucks his hips in just a little more on the next thrust. This time he is met with a bark of pleasure, Geralt surging under him. Swearing and moaning into Geralt’s shoulder, the muscles in Jaskier’s lithe, strong back stand out as he sets up a languid, relentlessly sensuous pace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt moans beneath him, shifting to give him the best access. His head drops back and his pale lashes flutter against his cheeks as he arches back into the pillows. As they get a feel for one another in this new position, he begins to move his hips, slowly at first, but then with more heat and purpose. Soon he is snapping up against Jaskier as Jaskier braces his hands on the pillows, meeting him with increasing fervor with every passing moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That rolling, snapping motion is even better than Jaskier imagined, and he finds himself scrambling to keep his head. Never in a million years did he consider how good it would feel to have the big man writhing under him, his breathing hoarse and ragged in his ear. The heat of their skin pressing together is dizzying, coarse hair and smooth skin becoming slick with sweat as their efforts near a crescendo. Soon Jaskier is railing into him with all the force he has in his body, and Geralt rapidly loses his composure under the onslaught.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He braces himself on one hand and reaches between their heaving bodies to grab his cock, starting to stroke himself feverishly. Jaskier arches his stomach to make a little more room for him, whimpering happily as his head drops and he begins to lose his grip, the pleasure moving in an ever tightening spiral.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt snarls, a low, lingering sound that spikes on every sharp thrust. He glares at Jaskier, catching his eyes in a ferocious stare as he works his cock. Jaskier’s eyes widen, and he moans and growls right back at him, finding a renewed burst of ferocity in his burning hip muscles as a spike of heat goes straight through him. The heat builds between them, spiraling out of control until Jaskier gives a sharp cry, feeling Geralt tighten around him. Geralt bares his teeth and presses his forehead to Jaskier’s, a low noise building into a roar as his eyes squeeze shut. White heat flashes behind his eyelids as he comes resoundingly, his body shaking with the force of it. Jaskier gives a choked cry as hot splashes of come hit his chest and abdomen, losing all semblance of control. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He presses his cheek against Geralt’s and fucks into him wildly, all rhythm lost as he mindlessly seeks his completion. Geralt wraps his arm around him and holds on, murmuring soft encouragements into his ear under his breath, moving to meet those frantic thrusts. Then his teeth graze along Jaskier’s neck and jaw, and Jaskier comes undone with a shout that surely will wake the neighbors if none of their other noise had. Indeed, an annoyed thump-thump from the ceiling follows a moment later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They lock eyes with one another, then dissolve slowly into giddy laughter, fucked out and silly. Jaskier slides out and slips the condom off, grabbing a wipe and cleaning himself. Geralt follows suit. Still laughing, they settle themselves on the bed, tangling limbs under the covers. Geralt looks at Jaskier fondly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That fucking napkin was stupid,” he observes dryly, eyes twinkling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You took it anyway,” Jaskier purrs with a satisfied little smile, nudging him with his hip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did,” Geralt admits with a grin, pulling him close for one last kiss. Then he sighs contentedly, dropping his head to his pillow. “Stay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier hums happily, nodding and curling in under his chin. “Kay,” he yawns, his eyelids heavy. He winds his arms more comfortably around Geralt, and before long, both of them are deeply asleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometime shortly after dawn, an alarm clock goes off shrilly. Muffled cursing ensues and Geralt fumbles his arm free to slap the ‘off’ button. Jaskier, feeling an ache beginning behind his eyes, squints unhappily over Geralt at the clock. 5:15 AM. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” he complains hoarsely, burying his face in Geralt’s chest and hiding from the morning light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I usually go to the gym in the morning,” Geralt explains thickly, squinting as a wave of pain rolls through his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Jaskier chuckles, then winces and stifles himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ow,” he adds quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt grumbles an agreement, hesitating before gingerly swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “Ah, fuck.” Gritting his teeth, he rubs his forehead. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into drinking a fucking cinnamon roll cocktail. How do you drink that much sugar and not die?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh hush, it was delicious and you know it,” Jaskier brushes the comment aside, covering his eyes with his hand as he lies back and gathers himself. He didn’t want to be awake, but he had a few desperate needs he had to attend to before any more sleep could be considered. Geralt grunts quietly, amused, then rises smoothly off of the bed and stalks off towards the bathroom on the other side of the apartment. Jaskier opens his eyes and follows the movement, tilting his head to the side and pursing his lips as he appreciates the glory that is Geralt’s ass. Whatever he was doing at the gym was working for him. After making a mental note of the location of the bathroom, Jaskier eases his way back down onto the bed and mutters a soft groan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A while later he realizes he's fallen asleep because he is roused by the smell of coffee. His bladder aches ferociously, and so he reluctantly staggers out of bed and across the apartment naked to the bathroom. By the time he gets out, significantly refreshed from a quick splash in the sink, the coffee is brewed. Geralt passes him a big cup, pausing in the process of pawing through a cabinet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thanks," Jaskier mumbles, leaning against the counter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt grunts in response, taking a long swallow from his coffee mug as he rummages. Then he makes a satisfied noise, swiping a couple of little glass bottles out of the back. Closing the cabinet, he unstoppers the bottle and swigs it down all in one go, pulling a face. Then he takes another swallow of his coffee, washing away the taste.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier looks on in fascination, taking a sip of his own coffee. To his surprise, it’s actually better coffee than they serve at the cart. He scans the kitchen and spots a large french press next to a bag of fancy coffee beans, and nearby it is a hand grinder. Explains why the noise didn’t wake him up, at least. His eyes focus back on Geralt as he offers Jaskier the other little bottle. “What is this?” He asks, plucking it from his hand curiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some foreign hangover cure Yennefer brings home from her travels,” Geralt mumbles thickly into his mug, still only half awake. “Tastes like ass but it works.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is Yennefer?” Jaskier asks, eyeing the bottle. There’s Asian characters of some sort on it, which sort he can’t tell. He opens it and takes a whiff, immediately wishes he hadn’t, shrugs, and downs it anyway. It’s overwhelmingly sweet, followed by a powerful bitter taste that makes him gag slightly. “Oh lord that’s awful,” he chokes, as Geralt chuckles unsympathetically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drink some coffee, wash it down,” Geralt suggests, grinning. He watches as Jaskier nods frantically and gulps back his coffee, nearly finishing his cup despite how hot it is. Geralt himself sips his coffee more slowly, then turns to the refrigerator and pulls out a little take out box. Then he gets two little dishes and some forks out. He opens the box and punts a small cannoli out onto each plate, then bumps one towards Jaskier. Then he grabs his own plate and begins to eat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Humming with interest, Jaskier takes the plate off of the counter. “Where’s this from?” He asks, taking a forkful and biting into it. It’s a little stale from being in the fridge overnight, but it’s still creamy and delicious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Little Italian place around the corner… they give these for free with the meal, I almost never eat them,” Geralt admits. “Yen likes them though.” He pauses, licking some cream off of his upper lip. “That was her harness in my drawer with all those dildoes,” he explains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s eyes light with sudden understanding. “Oh, the- Right. Miss not-exclusive.” He smiles and takes another bite of his cannoli, eyeing Geralt’s naked body up and down. “How long have you been seeing one another?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt rolls his shoulder comfortably in a shrug. “On and off for years. Long story.” Finishing his cannoli, he washes his plate and sets it in the drying rack, then pours himself another cup of coffee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier licks some crumbs and cream off of his fork contemplatively. “Fair enough,” he says, still too sleepy and achy to pry. Taking another swallow of his coffee, he looks around the apartment. The kitchen is done in a rich reddish wood with dark grey countertops, and there is an island in the middle which contains an electric stovetop. At the far end of the room, under a window, there is a dining nook with a couple of chairs and a table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns, taking in the rest of the room. As it becomes full daylight, the little figures he’d seen the night before come into focus. His eyes widen as he takes them in. Enchanted, he steps across the room and looks at the nearest one, a woman merged with a tree. She almost breathes with life, her features delicate and intelligent. The bark of the tree is richly textured, the painting thoughtful and clever. The whole effect is breathtaking. At the bottom of the little statue is the label, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dryad.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Next to her is a tiny hand-crafted book. Jaskier gapes at it, fascinated, then looks over his shoulder at Geralt. “May I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt gives him a silent nod, a smile creeping up the side of his face. He loved it when visitors first focused on the figurines. They never failed to impress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier picks up the book and flips delicately through it. In it, written in a graceful hand, is a thorough bestiary about the dryad, including excerpts from various real legends from around the world about them. Placing the book back on the shelf where it belongs, he raises his eyes and scans the room. There are figurines everywhere lining the apartment walls, each rich with detail and near glittering with life. In the far part of the room, revealed by daylight, is a broad work surface covered in tubes of paint and delicate tools. “Do you make these?” He gasps, turning back to face Geralt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt beams with pride. “I do. This is my real job.” He takes another long swallow of his coffee. “The shitty office gig just pays the bills.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow…” Jaskier breathes. “This is incredible. So you sell them?” He turns around and around, taking in the dazzling array of monsters and mythical creatures. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These are all the originals. I contract with a statue company that makes copies,” Geralt explains. “Every single one of them is from real folklore somewhere in the world. I research them, compile a file of images and stories about them, and then I craft my own.” He sounds pleased, scanning the room, eyes lingering on a wyvern here, a manticore there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s incredible,” Jaskier says, still goggling. “I had no idea you were so talented.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never asked,” Geralt points out, knocking back the rest of his coffee before brushing gently past Jaskier on the way to the bathroom. He smiles over his shoulder at him. “I’m going to take a shower, I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home.” With that, he’s in the bathroom and Jaskier is alone in the space, feeling somewhat off balance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spends the entire time that Geralt is gone browsing the statues and reading the little monster books as he finishes his coffee. The level of detail is really astonishing, especially in the bestiary entries. If he didn’t know better, Jaskier would almost think Geralt had seen these things himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Geralt gets out, Jaskier takes a shower of his own. When he steps out of the bathroom Geralt tosses him an over-large black bath robe. It’s soft and a little ratty, but deliciously comfortable. Jaskier wraps up comfortably in it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt is sitting on the couch, and he smiles sleepily at Jaskier as he gets out of the shower. He tosses him the bathrobe he’d retrieved from the bedroom, clean but less frequently used now that Yennefer had bought him a nicer one, a soft navy blue color. Lifting his arm in an invitation, his smile turns into a lazy grin as Jaskier curls into his lap and kisses at his neck and jaw affectionately. Tugging him close, Geralt gives a contented hum and relaxes deeply into the big couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still going to the gym this morning?” Jaskier mumbles into his neck, smiling as Geralt turns his head and nudges at him until he can get a kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm-mm,” he purrs, nibbling at Jaskier’s lip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Jaskier breathes back happily. He gives Geralt a long, lazy kiss, then another, sliding down with him until they’re curled together in a sleepy, happy knot in their bathrobes. As promised, the godawful little elixirs had worked and their headaches had already begun to fade to a distant memory. They contentedly taste one another, tongues twining together, bodies growing heavy and warm as the exertions of the night before creep back up on them. Eventually they succumb to sleep once again. It would be long, peaceful hours until they awoke in one another’s arms. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>